


Lay Your Head on Me

by Salmonellagogo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Post-Batman: Arkham Knight, Protective Dick Grayson, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15414282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmonellagogo/pseuds/Salmonellagogo
Summary: Having Jason back is both easier and harder than Dick expected.





	Lay Your Head on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuro49](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/gifts).



> This fic is set in a happier version of Arkham game universe, in which Jason saved Bruce before Scarecrow unmasked him, so the Knightfall protocol didn’t happen. 
> 
> Thank you to the awesome and patient Jaydick Exchange mods who made this possible, and to my prompter who asked for an AK fic. And last but not least, beta thanks to a lovely lady that shall remain unnamed until author reveal. :)

In the end, it wasn’t all that hard to find Jason. Dick spotted him at the edge of the roof where his favorite gargoyle was, crouching and looking down to the city far below.

Dick lowered himself to sit beside him.

Jason didn’t acknowledge his presence, didn’t even twitch, and Dick was still in awe—disbelief and relief, guilt and love, all rolled into one, and he almost choked on those feelings, heart lurching in his rib cage.

Neither of them talked. For a while all Dick could do was stare at the side profile of his face, visor pulled up to reveal an older Jason. It's been five years. In that stretch of time, Jason had grown taller, filled up so much that Dick could hardly recognize him anymore. There were small scars on his face, little imperfections from long ago healed pimples. The shadows under his eyes were as dark as day old bruises, and the bags were pronounced as if he hadn't gotten a proper night of sleep in a long while.

Dick made a small sound. He was close enough for a hug. He could lean in and draw Jason into his arms—doesn’t have to let go again. But he didn't do that.

“Jason,” Dick said instead.

Jason turned around and Dick got his first look of the ugly scar under Jason's left eye. Dick kept his composure, but really, he would have  _killed_ the Joker, went down to hunt him and choked the life out of the bastard if he weren’t already dead.

“Dickie.” Jason's voice was soft, strangely quiet without the voice modulator twisting it into the nightmare he had wanted to be.

“Hey, Jay.” Dick smiled, a tiny and weak thing. And even as he's still trying to reconcile with his new Jason, he recognized that Jason's eyes were still as beautiful as he remembered, bright blue, made even more vivid by the dark lashes framing them.

“Why are you here?” Jason asked.

“Taking you home.”

Jason shook his head. “Not the kid you remember anymore, Dickie. I can’t just go back. Doesn’t work that way.”

“Why not? If you don’t want to go back to the manor, then come back with me. My apartment in Bludhaven may not be the Wayne Manor, but I’ve got two rooms. Nice windows. Neighbors can be noisy, but they tend to leave me alone,” Dick said. He inched closer to Jason, their shoulders almost touching and Dick reached out to cover Jason’s gloved hand resting beside him with his own. “At three in the afternoon, there is this german shepherd, Muffin, that always does his number two in front of the apartment. His owner is an ass, but Muffin is a sweet little guy.”

Jason was watching him carefully. Dick tightened his hold around Jason’s hand and continued, “We can get a dog. You loved dogs, always wanted one. This time Bruce won’t have a say. It’s my place.”

“You’re crazy,” Jason said.

“I’m not. Consider it. Please.”

“I’m not your little Jay anymore, Dick. That kid is long dead.”

Dick shook his head. “I’ve still got you.”

Jason searched Dick’s face. His silence was heavy, but Dick knew the old Jason was in there or he wouldn’t be here, talking to Dick. He’s appealing to that Jason--the one that had kissed Dick when he was seventeen, just short of a few months before his eighteenth birthday, despite Dick’s reluctance—the one that had told Dick he made it all better, his frustration, the training, Batman’s smothering. And Dick hadn't expected to feel so much for a kid, but Jason was hardly one even at that age. He had been far more mature and self aware than most kid his age. His only problem had been rage—at the criminals of Gotham, at the world and its various injustices, at Batman sometimes. But toward Dick, he had been different. He was more accomodating, willing to listen to what he had to say. Dick hoped he would be too, this time around.

“I don't know, Dickie,” Jason said. “I’ve done some unforgivable things.”

“Yes.” Dick tried to look at him in the eyes. “You've done terrible things, Jay. And I’m not gonna say I don't care about all that. But you _saved_ him and that counts a lot. What I’m trying to tell you, is… you still have a home to come back to. If you want.”

Jason doesn't answer him, not right away. And Dick bit the inside of his lip, waiting.

“Okay,” Jason said finally.

Dick felt something in his gut unclench upon hearing that. Jason still hadn't took his eyes off Dick, so Dick smiled, twined his fingers with Jason’s. His chest was tight, and the love was still there, along with the regret and guilt that nearly brought tears to Dick's eyes. But it wasn't in his place to cry. He was there for Jason.

And when Jason brought his hand up to brush Dick's cheek, leaned in to kiss him slow and close mouthed, cautious, for the first time since Dick found out the identity of the Arkham Knight, he felt something akin to _hope_.

***

The first night in Bludhaven, none of them slept.

Jason stripped Dick out of his armored suit, piece by piece in the living room. He laid Dick out on the floor and climbed on top of Dick, still in full gear, except for his helmet that he took off and put on Dick's coffee table carelessly.

Jason didn't say much, but the way he touched Dick told him plenty. Jason was guarded at first, careful and slow as he explored Dick's skin. The sharp edges of his armor pressed into Dick and it’s far from comfortable. But he could feel Jason's warmth even through the gloves covering Jason’s fingers, and his kisses were peeling the layers of reason off Dick, leaving him a mess under Jason.

Dick didn't press Jason into anything for that first night. He let Jason take the lead, showed him Dick hadn't changed much in the five years of his absence. Or he had, maybe, but the core value was still the same. Dick had never been in a serious relationship with anyone else since Jason left—since the Joker sent him a video of Jason crying, before shooting Jason in a dark room. Hadn’t been able to, if he's honest.

Jason kissed his throat, leaving dark bruises on the way down to his chest. He licked Dick's nipple and Dick gasped. His cock jumped as it made contact with the cold steel of Jason's outer armor.

“Jason,” he said. “ _Jay_.”

Jason didn't say anything back, but he surged up to meet Dick's mouth with his. He swallowed Dick's moan, clever hand wrapped around Dick's cock. It's painful. Too much friction from the padding of his gloves, but the pleasure eclipsed the pain and Dick trembled. It had been too long since he was last touched by anyone other than his own hand.

Dick came with a jolt, shooting all over his own stomach and Jason's hand. His groan muffled by Jason's mouth. Jason didn't let go of him though, didn't stop kissing him until Dick stopped trembling—until Dick was able to hear something other than the rush of blood in his ears, the thrumming of his heartbeat.

Their forehead met when Dick had calmed down and he hold Jason's gaze. “I love you,” he said.

He felt Jason shudder. His eyelashes brushed against Dick's skin as he ducked his head. He was about to retreat, but Dick caught Jason's face with both of his hands, forcing Jason to face him again, looking down at Dick, and Dick thumbed the letter on Jason’s cheek. “I love you,” he repeated.

“Jesus Christ, Dickie,” Jason said with a laugh that sounded too brittle to be actual amusement.

“Just thought you should know.”

Jason's laugh died. Dick could see the disbelief in Jason's eyes. He'd been looking at Dick that way all night, treated Dick like it was all temporary and this wasn't real at all. Dick wanted to disprove that, although he didn't know how.

Dick’s palm skimmed Jason's torso and reached down to his crotch. Only to be met by Jason gripping his wrist to stop him.

“Nah,” Jason said. “I'm alright.”

Dick retracted his touch and Jason extricated himself from Dick, kneeling over him and then standing up. Dick felt the loss of Jason keenly, the warmth and weight of him. Dick got up as well. Then, he left Jason at the living room to find something to clean himself.

When he came back, he brought a pair of soft pants and a t-shirt that was too big on him, and gave it to Jason.

“Come on, Jay. You can sleep with me in my bedroom for tonight. I’ve only got one bed. We can buy one for the guest room in the morning,” he said. “Or if you prefer, I can take the couch.”

“Forget the couch,” Jason said. He stepped closer to Dick and slipped his hand around Dick's waist, prompting Dick to look up. He dropped a quick kiss on Dick mouth. And repeated it. Again, and again. He looked at Dick's eyes all the while, as if pushing Dick to say something.

“Let's sleep, Jay,” Dick said.

Jason let him go.

***

They didn't get around to buy the new bed. Jason stayed in Dick’s on the second night, and the night after that, and then it seemed like it worked okay that way. Even so, Jason rarely got a full night’s sleep. Dick went out to patrol around eight in the evening and came back in the early morning. Jason was still awake each time he climbed in from the balcony window, sitting on the couch with the TV off. Sometimes, the lights weren’t on, and all Dick could see was Jason’s silhouette, illumined by the ambient light from the street.

They fucked a lot. Jason would corner him as soon as Dick stepped into his apartment, kissed him until his head swimmed. He would stripped Dick bare and it seemed like it was his new favorite thing to do to Dick, to make Dick vulnerably naked as he got him off, not shedding any piece of his own clothing. And each time, Jason declined Dick’s offer to reciprocate. He stayed in bed with Dick afterward though, hands heavy around Dick, and Dick could feel that Jason was hard under his pants. Dick bit his lip and didn’t comment. Before long, he usually fell asleep, exhaustion catching up to him. But Dick knew Jason was awake most mornings, keeping still while Dick was sleeping.

On one particular morning, Jason did fall asleep. But it wasn't a peaceful one. He tossed and turned and to top it off, he screamed and thrashed  until Dick had to restrain him. It didn't end well.

Jason was wild eyed when he woke up. His fingers traced the red marks he gave Dick under his jaw, a stray punch, too quick and unexpected to be dodged as Dick tried to wake him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s all right, Jay. It's nothing.” Dick sat beside him on the bed in the near darkness, because if nothing else, Dick's apartment had awesome blackout curtains.

“It’s not nothing. I live with you now, this can’t happen.”

And Dick honestly had nothing to say to that, aside from a few reassuring words that he knew didn't do anything. Intellectually, Dick understood Jason needed help—the kind which Dick couldn't provide. He needed to talk to someone. Dick had nearly brought it up before this, but the words had died in his tongue before they could come out.

***

Jason avoided him the next day, locking himself up in the empty guest room. Dick stood by the door a few times and contemplated knocking on the door, but in the end he decided to leave Jason alone.

He got through his days like he usually did, minus Jason watching him like a hawk and occasionally dropping in to loop his arms around Dick and dropping casual kisses on his skin. He ate dinner by himself, and watched the guest room door for at least one minute before he took off for patrol. He left a note for Jason on the kitchen island, telling him about the food in the microwave.

Dick did his round, following up on his on-going cases, and stopping a robbery at a corner store just a few blocks from his apartment as he was making his way back in the small hours. The perps were just a bunch of kids, waving knives and pistols for what probably amounted to a few hundred dollars in the cash register.

Dick stopped them easily, but he was careless when he restrained them. One of the kid was faking unconsciousness and opened fire at Dick. The bullet didn't pierce his armor, but the momentum was felt. He would get a nasty bruise from that. The second bullet grazed his left cheek, a close call. The third didn't come because Dick was quicker, his wingding knocking the gun out of the kid’s hand. Then, he was on the kid, making sure he really was unconscious this time.

Blood was trickling down Dick’s face when he was done. Bullet wounds always hurt like a motherfucker, even the one that only grazed skin. And it would scar. Dick had multitude of scars on his body, but this face scar would be a first.

Dick liked to think that he wasn’t a vain person. Scars usually weren't the first thing to pop up in his mind when he was wounded. But it was strangely all that he could think of as he made the trek home. Jason had a face scar, something that he couldn't hide and made Dick's heart clench each time he  saw it. Now, Dick might have one too, although the implication, the meaning and memory attached to the scars would be vastly different. Dick got one from saving some random cashier from getting shot and Jason got his from … _yeah._

But still, considering how long he and Bruce had done this thing, it was a wonder that they never got lasting marks on their face.

When Dick reached his apartment, the light was on. Jason had emerged from his hiding hole, sitting at his customary place on the couch, looking so lost that it made Dick’s heart ache. The look was wiped out of his face as soon as Dick got one foot inside.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “What happened to you?”

Dick shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention, I guess. It's just a flesh wound.”

“Jesus, Dick.” Jason stood up and walked over to him. He encroached upon Dick's personal space as easy as anything, one hand caught Dick's jaw and tilted his face to the side so he could inspect Dick's wound. “It's nasty.”

“It bleeds a lot, makes it look more serious than it actually is,” Dick said.

Jason clucked his tongue. “Go sit. I’ll bring the first aid kit.”

Dick sat on the couch and Jason was true to his word. He brought Dick's first aid kit with him from the bathroom cabinet. The bullet had stripped the skin off Dick's cheek in a neat horizontal line, nearly two inches in length. Jason dabbed the blood off, cleaned the wound, and poured antiseptic over it.

It would scar, there was no doubt of that, and Jason didn't get up when he was done. Instead, his fingers were careful around the bandage he’d taped over the wound.

He was… sad, Dick had no other word for the look in Jason's eyes, the little lines that formed between his eyebrows.

Dick laid his hand over Jason's, brought it back to rest on Dick's lap. Then, he leaned in to grazed his mouth over Jason's. A simple hello and reassurance that turned into a deep and lingering kiss.

“Sleep with me tonight. I'm alright. I can't stand it when you wall me out,” Dick said when they parted.

“Dickie, I can't let myself hurt you,” Jason said, looking like he's the one in pain instead of Dick.

“I’m not made of glass. You have to stop treating me like I am. If you need some time alone, then it's okay. I understand. But if you're avoiding me because of what happened last night, please don't.”

Jason didn’t say anything, but when Dick squeezed his hand, Jason reacted by squeezing back. Dick took that as an okay.

***

Jason instigated another sexual act when they were both finally in bed. He kissed Dick's chest, trailing hands that felt like brands down Dick's sides. Dick was freshly out of the shower. His muscles were lax and he was reacting quickly as usual to Jason’s touches.

But Dick had another thing in his mind tonight. For nearly a month of Jason’s stay, he’d let Jason do as he liked, never pushing. He knew that it couldn’t last forever and they were heading into the dangerous territory of an unhealthy relationship. They had to talk, and the way Jason never wanted him to reciprocate was only one of the topic he wanted to breach.

Dick pushed Jason’s shoulder when they parted from a consuming kiss. Jason stared at him. Immediately, Dick could sense he was becoming cautious. He leaned back and sat beside Dick’s outstretched legs. Dick put one elbow under himself and got up to sit as well.

“We need to talk, Little Wing,” Dick said.

The alarm in Jason’s eyes prompted Dick to shot out one hand to soothe him, trailing his fingers on the back of Jason’s hand. To let him know that whatever it was Dick wanted to talk about, he wasn’t about to let Jason up and leave him. And that he was safe, it was only Dick.

“Can we?” Dick asked.

“Do I have a choice?” Jason said.

Dick pressed his lips into a thin line. He could stop, really. Let them go on as they were. But Dick had to try.

“You need to let me know why you don’t want me touch you,” he said. He started with that because it was the easiest and most obvious thing.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” Jason said. He didn’t look at Dick. “Don’t need anything for myself.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Jay,” Dick said. “I can’t just let you do things for me. It’s not…,” Dick trailed off. _Healthy_.

“Don’t think about it too much, Dickie.”

“You know I can’t help it. I’m glad you’re back here with me, that I’ve got you back at all. But you need to let me in. Let me help you.”

Jason ducked his head. “You’ve done plenty.”

“Not in the way that matter.”

Dick shifted closer, touched Jason's face to make him look at Dick. “You need to talk to someone. I don't care if that someone isn't me. In fact, I have a list of contacts who—”

“Dick, stop,” Jason cut him off. He grabbed Dick's wrist and pulled his hand off his face. “I have problems. I don't need you to tell me that. I _know_.”

Dick bit his lip, refrained from making a remark in reaction to what Jason said.

“Bad things happened to me, Dick. Things you couldn't have stopped. I don't like someone touching me _that_ way. But I want to see you, just want to touch you. You make me _feel_ and that's enough.”

Dick's heart lurched. _God_. He didn't want to imagine what it was that Jason implied—the sort of horror inflicted upon him to leave that kind of trauma in Jason. Anger was rising within him. Jason didn't deserve that. No one deserved that. “But I could,” Dick heard himself said. “I could've stopped it. I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you. I should’ve… I—”

“I know. I know you wouldn't have stopped looking, and believe me Dick, if Harley didn't mess me up, didn't make me _hate_ Batman so much, you would've been the first person I looked for when I escaped Arkham Asylum.”

Dick wanted to cry. He’d been successful on not shedding any tears since the first night Jason came back to him. But it ended tonight. Dick could feel the moisture gathering in his eyes and overflowing, spilling a few stray drops down Dick's face.

Jason frowned and Dick surged forward. Both hands wrapped around Jason's torso. And the next thing he knew, Jason was shushing him. Dick wanted to laugh, even though his tears, because it's so ridiculous. He should’ve been the one to comfort Jason instead of the other way around.

Dick lost the track of time. Jason coaxed Dick to lie back on the bed. The back of his hand brushed Dick's cheek gently, over the bandage of his wound. And Dick did the same to him, fingers tracing the contour of Jason's face, the scar under his eye.

“You need to talk to someone, Jay,” Dick said after what seemed like a long time, voice low and a little hoarse. “They can help you. Do it for me.”

“I'll think about it,” Jason said.

***

At the first week of January, Tim and Barbara held a simple wedding.

Dick went back to Gotham. The guests stared as he walked into the small chapel situated within the Wayne Manor’s ground, and it wasn't because Dick was sporting a fresh scar on his face. It was expected that he would come. But what everyone didn't expect was for him to bring Jason in tow.

Bruce went rigid, back straight as he looked at them intensely. Dick offered him a small smile and gripped Jason's hand tighter, pulling him to slip into the pew at the last row, where no one else was sitting in. Thankfully, they were the last to arrive, and the ceremony was starting.

Bruce was at the front pew and there would be conversation, later, Dick knew that. Dick could hold a masterclass on how to read Bruce’s little tells, and right now? The man’s back was tense and radiating guilt the size of Alaska. Any other day he would go up there and maybe offer Bruce a hug, but today, he had Jason to focus on. Jason that grasped his hand to the point of pain as the ceremony started.

Dick glanced at Tim, who stood at the head of the chapel, looking a little bit like a deer in headlights. Behind Tim were Alfred and an old minister who had also stood there nearly forty years ago, for Thomas and Martha Wayne. He would’ve noticed Dick and Jason arriving, but his little brother’s attention was understandably elsewhere now. Barbara was wheeled into the chapel by Commissioner Gordon, looking more beautiful than Dick had ever seen her in his life. She opted out from a veil and instead a garland of tiny white flowers decorated her hair. The dress she had chosen was plain, but elegant—with soft skirt that fell to her mid calf and long sleeves made of transparent fabric.

Jason hold on to him for the whole procession. They would go home as soon as the procession was done. That's the promise he made to Jason. Their family was an inevitable factor in their life that they had to face sooner or later. But Dick could be his buffer for as long as Jason needed.

And as Dick inadvertently made eye contact with Alfred, the old butler gave him a smile—the kind that he used to give Dick after a long day of patrol and Batman's harsh mentoring. It's reassuring and Dick felt like… they might be okay, after all.

 


End file.
